Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky
by Ryeloza
Summary: The reality was that she was sick, and they had to find a way to deal with that.  A companion piece to "Holding On."
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer: **I have absolutely no claim to _Desperate Housewives_, as usual.

**Story Summary: **The reality was that she was sick, and they had to find a way to deal with that. A companion piece to "Holding On."

**A/n: **This is a companion piece to my other story, "Holding On." It's not necessary to read that to understand this, but it does follow the sequence of events from that story and may assume knowledge from it at some points in time. My plan is to have this cover the entirety of the cancer arc. I hope you all enjoy!

**Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Part One: June**

**Introduction**

_There were a hundred thousand stars lighting the blackened sky and Lynette and Tom were the only two people in the world who could see them. They lay on the backs on the sandy shores of a lake, hands clasped and heads together, just staring up at those tiny pinpricks of light. Somehow in the enormity of it all, Tom was able to pick out the constellations, pointing them out one by one._

"_And that one, near Cassiopeia—that's Andromeda." Tom's fingers danced from star to star, showing her. "Cassiopeia was her mother and she was so vain that the gods punished her by chaining Andromeda to a rock to be eaten by a sea monster."_

_Lynette nodded attentively, surprised by how logical it seemed that Tom knew this story and she didn't when she had been the one to take a Greek mythology course in college. "The daughter is punished for the mother's sins," she murmured._

"_Yes," agreed Tom. "We follow in our parents' footsteps. Well, one day Perseus happened by and he was so taken with Andromeda's beauty that he agreed to free her. In exchange all he wanted was her hand in marriage. Cassiopeia agreed."_

_Lynette smiled. "And he saved her."_

"_Yes. He couldn't live without her. And now," said Tom, taking their joined hands and pointing out another group of stars nearby, "he and Andromeda are in the sky together. Forever."_

"_It's just too bad her mother is right there too."_

_Tom laughed and the sound filled up the entire world. She felt like she was floating on his joy. "Come on," he said, suddenly standing and holding out his hands for her to take. Her stomach fluttered nervously, but she reached out her hands and let him hoist her up._

"_Where are we going?"_

_Tom didn't answer. He dropped her hands, backing away from her toward the lake. Inexplicably, she was frightened, but her feet couldn't move; she was frozen. "Don't go."_

"_You have to come too."_

"_No."_

"_Come on…"_

Lynette opened her eyes for a second, and then groaned. "Come on," Tom said again, reality overlapping her dream. He forced her up off of the couch, and she rubbed the bleariness from her eyes. "It's time for bed."

"I was dreaming," she mumbled. "You were showing me constellations."

Tom turned off the light and put his hands on her hips, propelling her toward the stairs. "I know the big dipper."

"Perseus and Andromeda up in the sky."

"That must have been some dream," he chuckled. He was humoring her, but she was too tired to care. If Gaby's wedding hadn't worn her out, the ensuing fight with her mother certainly had; she was exhausted. "Don't worry, you'll be in bed soon. Back to your dreams."

She didn't correct him that she didn't want to return.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **This isn't mine.

**A/n: **Thank you for the reviews! You guys rock!

**Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Chapter One**

_June 1, 2008_

_Dear Lynette,_

_I want to see you smile._

_Do you know that that's been something I've strived for since the minute we met? The very first time I saw you, you turned and looked at me with just this little hint of a smirk, and I thought, God, I bet she looks beautiful when she smiles. So, yes, when I cracked that joke about inappropriate behavior in an elevator (which, in retrospect, was quite a bit at Annabel's expense), it was just to see if I was right about your smile. Except you didn't laugh; you gave me that _Tom, you're insane_ look that I've come to know and love, and it wasn't until three days later when we were alone and I made that bad pun about fruit punch that I finally saw you grin. And I was right—you were completely, drop-dead gorgeous. And every single day since then all I've wanted is to make you smile like that again._

_Lately, that's been harder and harder to do. _

_Okay, so maybe agreeing to let your mother stay here was a terrible idea. But, sweetie, she pleaded with me. I know, I know. I told you that it was all about the money. You want the truth? She offered me the money and I said no. Do you think I don't have reservations about trusting her with our children? Do you think I don't realize that money comes with strings attached? But she stood there and she practically begged me. Lynette, she wants a second chance with you. To make things right or to try to form a relationship with you after all these years or something; I'm not sure, but I do know that she's convinced that this is her last chance. I know you don't want to hear this; I know that if I actually had the courage to say this to you that you'd probably deck me, but I agreed to this for you. If your mom is finally willing to make that effort with you after all these years…You need this, honey, for your own well-being. If you can finally make peace with your mom, I think you'll be happier. And, God, this sounds so condescending, but I don't care. For once I'm putting my foot down. Not actually admitting any of this to you, of course, but putting my foot down all the same._

_So let's recap: I invited your mother to stay here behind your back; the past year of our marriage has been an emotional roller coaster; we have five kids running amok; and you have a serious illness that you've decided should remain a secret because heaven forbid you receive comfort and support from the people who love you. That covers the bad, right? How about the good? Your mother, while utterly frustrating, has actually provided us with money we desperately need so you can get better; we have kids that you wouldn't trade for anything in the world; you have friends who would do anything for you; the doctor says that you have every chance in the world of beating this; and I love you more than I could possibly ever tell you. But, somehow, no matter how often I tell you this, you're sinking further and further into a depression that I'm scared I won't be able to pull you out of. So back to my problem: how do I get you to smile? _

_Jokes haven't been working. I asked you to dance at the wedding tonight and you didn't want to. Even when Orson got really drunk tonight and sang with the wedding band until security dragged him off stage, you didn't even crack a smile. I'm really not sure how to top that. I need to come up with something, though. I need to. Because when you smile, I smile. And if you want the truth, I could really use a good laugh about now._

* * *

The phone let out a piercing ring, and Tom groaned, rolling over and pressing his face into his pillow. Lynette answered before a second ring even sounded, and he let the soft cadence of her voice wash over him without listening to her words. By the time she hung up, he was almost asleep again, only becoming alert when she got out of bed.

"What's going on?" he mumbled into the pillow. Lazily, he opened an eye to look at his wife, surprised to find her pulling on jeans. "Lynette?"

"That was Carlos. He's at the hospital."

"With Gaby?"

"What? No. Edie." Lynette came over, sitting down on his side of the bed to put on her sandals. "He said she tried to kill herself? I don't know."

"What?"

"I'm going down there to see what's going on. I have to—I said I'd call Susan and Bree…" Lynette shook her head and sighed, suddenly stopping her frenetic movements and turning to face him. After a second, she lay down next to him, reaching out to run her hand over his cheek. "I don't understand why _Edie_, of all people…I always thought…" She trailed off uncertainly.

Tom gave her reassuring kiss. "You never know what's really going on with people."

"I know." Lynette pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbed her hand over her face and sighed. She seemed on the verge of saying something else, but after a second, she just patted his chest and sat up. "I'll use the phone downstairs. You should go back to sleep."

"Sweetie, you _need_ to sleep."

"I'll be back in a little while," she said, only acknowledging his remark with a slightly tender look. She blew him a kiss and left the room. Of course, there was no chance he was going back to sleep. The room practically groaned with Lynette's absence, and the news throbbed in his head like a bad headache. Irrationally, he was mostly annoyed that this was just one more bad thing to have happened. At some point, the universe had to cut them a break.

Without any particular logic to the decision, Tom got out of bed and tugged on his bathrobe. It wasn't even one yet, but being so abruptly woken had put him on edge. There was no point tossing and turning in bed until Lynette came home. Quietly, he crept out into the hall, tiptoeing past the kids' rooms, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he heard Stella hiss his name. "Jeez," he whispered, turning to face his mother-in-law. "What are you doing up?"

"I heard the phone. What's going on?"

"Nothing." And then, realizing who he was dealing with, he added, "Just a problem with one of the neighbors."

"Oh really? A neighbor?" Stella raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. For the life of him, Tom couldn't figure out what she was implying. "Are you sure it's not a booty call?"

"What? No!"

Stella shrugged. "Well first Lynette skulks out of here and now you're creeping around…And I know what's been going on lately. You know, with Rick…"

"Oh my God." Tom shook his head, disgusted, and continued down the hall. He had no idea where Stella had heard about Rick; certainly Lynette hadn't told her. There was no way in hell he intended to discuss his marital problems with her, though. Unfortunately, Stella followed him, all the way downstairs where the only saving grace was that Lynette was already gone.

"You know I'm only concerned about you," Stella persisted, raising her voice now that they were in the kitchen. Tom looked at her incredulously, and then grabbed a beer from the fridge. He never should have left his room. "If your marriage is on the rocks—"

"Our marriage is none of your business!"

"I don't know how you figure that."

Tom laughed. It was the only alternative to strangling her. "The last time I saw you, Lynette had just told me she was pregnant with Penny. And, let's see, that was five years ago? Yeah," he said, unable to keep the sarcasm from lacing his voice. "Five years ago. So I think that gives me the right to tell you to butt out."

"I'm just worried about you two."

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"I am. I know better than anyone about the hell my daughter is about to go through. I just want to make sure she's not going to go through it alone."

Tom sighed, the fight going out of him, though he was no less annoyed. Stella was uniquely obnoxious, overprotective of her children in the most bizarre, backward way. Not one of her daughters knew that, though, because with them, Stella was a singularly prickly, prodding, horrid person. Even Tom could barely process the idea that Stella was looking out for Lynette's well-being; mostly, it seemed like she was trying to cause trouble.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said stiffly. "And this is the last time you're going to bring this up, to me or to Lynette. Whatever is going on is between me and her. I won't let you make it worse."

Stella gave him an appraising look. "Fine. I'll keep my yap shut."

Tom nodded. He figured it was fifty-fifty that she'd keep her word.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Oh trust me, it is absolutely not mine.

**A/n: **Thank you for reviewing! You guys are the best!

**Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Chapter Two**

Tom couldn't pinpoint the moment when sleeping alone had become more difficult than sharing his bed, but it had become inarguable that without Lynette next to him, his sleep was never restful. He'd escaped from Stella after only one drink, but he'd still been very much awake and ended up lying in bed watching reruns of _Cheers_. At some point between a classic barb from Carla and the switch to 3:00am infomercials, he finally lost consciousness again, but it was an uneasy sleep from which he woke several times. He felt Lynette's absence like a phantom limb, an acute, inexplicable pain.

A gray morning light tentatively filtered into the room when Tom finally woke up to find Lynette in the room with him. The click of the television shutting off roused him, and he sleepily blinked up at his wife, genuine pleasure and relief easing the tension he'd felt all night. "Hey," he mumbled, instinctively reaching out to grasp her hips and pull her down to the bed. She complied without hesitation, running her hand over the top of his head with an especially tender look.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. I wasn't really asleep. What time is it?"

"A little after six."

Tom made a deep, disapproving sound in the back of his throat and patted her thigh. "Still early. Come to bed."

Lynette nodded, and bent to give him a lingering kiss. Lately, everything about her was incredibly tender and soft, love underscored by some persistent sadness. It felt like she was savoring each kiss like it was their last, but perhaps he was too. He'd been too hesitant to do anything but follow her lead in the past few weeks, and he was beginning to wonder if he had to be the one to push her beyond this. Unfortunately, he didn't have the slightest clue how to do this without seeming insensitive.

"You taste like syrup," he said quietly.

"We got breakfast. French toast day in the hospital cafeteria."

"Mmm." Tom pulled her down for another kiss, briefly letting his tongue skirt between her lips; the slightest foray toward something bolder before he backed away. "Sweet. Just like you." Lynette smiled, but it was more tired than amused, and with a slight sigh of disappointment, he added, "How's Edie?"

"She's going to be okay." The words came out positively, but Tom studied Lynette's expression with concern. Her eyes had drifted from his, focusing on the paper thin, faded scar on his jaw, and almost unconsciously she reached out to trace it with her finger. "She blamed Carlos. He broke up with her yesterday at the wedding. I didn't even realize she loved him." There was a pause of indeterminable length, and then abruptly she added, "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Promise me that if I die, you're going to be okay."

Tom was vaguely aware that he was shaking his head before she even finished speaking; the words felt like a sucker punch and the reaction purely visceral. "No." He sat up, ignoring her hurt, baffled look, and climbed out of bed.

"Tom—"

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's something we need to talk about."

"No. You're just tired—And Edie—Remembering Mary Alice—" Tom's mind flew faster than his tongue, unable to organize his thoughts in a coherent manner. Imagining a life without Lynette was absolutely impossible, and he couldn't consciously analyze on any level what would happen to him if she died. He blew out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Dr. Rushton said that your prognosis is great."

"I know."

"So this isn't something that we need to discuss."

Lynette stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded. "Okay," she said quietly. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, clearly exhausted, and as relieved as he was that she was dropping it, he was also upset by the fact that she wasn't going to argue with him. It felt like she was giving up, and at this moment, he wanted nothing more than affirmation that she was going to fight. Wearily, he rubbed his hand over his face and sighed.

"Why don't we just go back to bed? It's too early…"

"You're right," she agreed, again throwing him off kilter. He felt like he was dreaming, lost in a world where he had nothing but a shadow of the woman he loved. It was unsettling. "We can still get a decent two hours before the kids are up." She stood, stripping off her jeans and crawling into bed, and after a moment he joined her. Needy, but not feeling the least bit guilty for it, he snuggled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso and drawing her warm body back against his. She gave a content little murmur that eased his mind a little, and slowly he shut his eyes. Sleep, so elusive all night, suddenly clouded his brain, and he was already nearly gone when he heard her say his name.

"Hmm?" he responded.

"I think we should go out. On a date."

The words drew him back, and he opened his heavy eyelids. "A date?"

"Please. I just…I need this."

Tom paused at the frank neediness in her voice; it was a vulnerability she rarely showed, and it cut him straight to the core. "Okay," he agreed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Tomorrow night?"

She nodded, apparently unable to speak, and Tom kissed her again.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **This really isn't mine.

**A/n: **I've been trying to work on this chapter for awhile now, and got a review tonight that finally spurred me to finish it. I'd really like to thank all of my reviewers because your feedback is incredible motivation for me to keep writing. I hope you enjoy this.

**Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Chapter Three**

Tom straightened his tie for the second time, trying and failing to keep his focus on his own reflection when out of the corner of his eye he could see Lynette rubbing lotion on her bare legs. She was still in a towel, hair up in curlers, and Tom really wished this was one of those times where he could use a few well-placed kisses to convince her to skip the night out. The whole day, though, there had been something lighter about her, an excitement about tonight that showed in her smile, and nothing could make him spoil that rare ease of spirit.

Then, like a gunshot shattering the comfortable silence between them, there was a loud crash downstairs. Tom flinched; Lynette was up and halfway to the door before he even realized what had happened. "Hey! Hey, hang on a second!" he called, closing the distance between them and catching her by the elbow before she could go leave. In a space of three seconds, stress had resurfaced on her face like a storm cloud. "Don't go down there."

"I have to. God only knows what they broke."

"I will go down and deal with it," he said, kissing her forehead and stepping past her before she could protest. "Don't worry about it."

Lynette's brow creased, speaking volumes without her actually saying anything, but he left the room without contest. In the hall, the shrieks of the kids were much more audible, and Tom sighed as he headed downstairs. The likelihood that he and Lynette would get out of the house unscathed was slim to none, a suspicion that was confirmed the second he stepped into the living room.

Parker and Porter were screaming at each other and wrestling, an overturned end table clearly the source of the crash they'd heard upstairs. Only adding to the noise was the television; Kayla sat there consistently pumping up the volume in an attempt to block out her brothers screams. Preston was nowhere in sight, but Tom thought that could only be a bad sign. Not even bothering to try to break up the fight verbally, he stepped over, caught Parker around the waist, and pried him off of his brother.

"All right!" he shouted over the noise. Parker was still throwing punches into the air, and Tom had no choice but to set him down on the couch and physically block him in. "Kayla," he snapped, "turn off the TV."

With a disdainful scowl, Kayla simply turned down the volume; considering the mutinous look on Parker's face, Tom didn't have much choice but to ignore her disobedience. "What is going on?" he demanded, catching Porter by the shoulder as he tried to skulk out of the room.

"He stole my action figure—"

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Okay! Stop! Now!"

Both boys shut their mouths, but continued to glare daggers at one another; Tom blew out a frustrated sigh. They would choose tonight to fight like this; it was only fitting.

"Can I turn up the volume now?"

"No," said Tom, barely glancing at his daughter. It was in that brief look, however, that something caught his eye, and he turned back to Kayla with wide eyes. "What are you eating?"

"Chocolate."

"Where did you…" He didn't need to complete the thought. Warily, he addressed the boys again. "Did you guys have chocolate too?"

"Grandma said we could have an after dinner snack."

"Yeah," snorted Tom. "Of course Grandma said. Where is Grandma?" Without waiting for an answer, Tom raised his voice and called for Stella. In the interminable pause that followed, Kayla tried to turn up the volume again. Annoyed, Tom grabbed the remote and turned off the television, not at all perturbed when Kayla stormed out of the room. It was almost a relief to know that she'd spend the rest of the night sulking in her room. Distracted by his daughter, he didn't notice that Stella had come out of the bathroom until he heard her clear her throat.

"What's up?"

"Did you—" Tom trailed off as Preston scuffed into the kitchen. He held a washcloth up to his nose, the rag soaked through with blood. "What the hell happened?" he asked, forgetting Porter and Parker and hurrying over to Preston. Fortunately, the other two seemed more interested in the blood than each other.

Stella shrugged. "I don't know. They were wrestling."

"Porter kneed me in the nose!"

Tom tugged the towel away, grateful to see that the bleeding seemed to have stopped. "He's fine," said Stella nonchalantly. "Kids bleed."

Hands shaking, Tom took Preston by the shoulder and dragged him to the sink so he could wash off the blood that was caked around his nose and lip. If Lynette saw this, the explosion would be apocalyptic to say the least. "Did you give them chocolate?" he asked, trying to keep the tremor of anger out of his voice.

"Yeah. You get them high on sugar, and they'll crash early."

"You get them high on sugar at this time of night and they end up trying to kill each other. That's why we never let them have anything after five."

"Well you're going out for the evening, so I'm the one dealing with this."

"But you're not," said Tom, straightening up and throwing the washcloth into the sink. "I'm the one dealing with it. Just me."

The boys exchanged looks, clearly put off by his sharp words. He didn't lose his temper often, and even more rarely in front of the kids, so their mixed expressions of awe and fear weren't entirely unexpected. Managing to momentarily quell his fury for their sakes, he barked at them to go upstairs and put on their pajamas.

"It's still light out," Porter whined, but Parker gave him a shove and Preston rolled his eyes, and that seemed to be enough to end any protests. They trudged upstairs without further complaint, apparently too distracted by the adults to remember that they'd been at each other's throats minutes before.

"Tom, this is not a big deal," said Stella dismissively. He was surprised that she had to good grace to wait until the boys were out of earshot. "They're fine."

Tom barely heard her; he could hardly acknowledge that she was even still there. He simply shook his head, sinking down into one of the kitchen chairs and burying his head in his hands. "I can't do this," he said, a shaky laugh echoing in his voice. "I can't—I can't do this without her."

The words hung in the air with the heaviness of all verboten admittances. It wasn't like confessing; it wasn't an easing of guilt—something he had been repressing until he could no longer keep it a secret. This was something that had been buried so deeply inside of him that he hadn't even realized he'd been thinking it until this moment. And he couldn't take it back; he couldn't forget an epiphany.

Suddenly, it felt like such a very real possibility that he thought he might be sick.

Stella didn't say anything. After a long stretch of silence, she went to the sink, briefly squeezing his shoulder as she passed. In some strange way, the gesture made everything better and worse all at once. Comfort, but not reassurance. He wanted both; he was never going to get the latter.

Lynette's heels were clicking on the stairs, and Tom hurriedly wiped his eyes and stood, plastering a fake smile on his face. Fortunately, Lynette was fiddling with her purse as she came into the room, not taking any notice of his emotional state. "You ready?" she asked, clasping her purse and glancing at him.

He stared at her for a long moment. She was wearing a slinky teal dress that made her eyes look even brighter blue than usual, hair down in loose waves over her shoulders. "You," he said, exhaling softly, "look beautiful."

She smiled—this soft, genuine, loving smile that made his heart beat faster—and pulled him down for a brief kiss. "You okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Tom lied. The truth was that she was a distraction from and a reminder of what was going on all at once, and he didn't know how to possibly begin to sort through his confusion. Gently, he gave her another kiss, forcing his thoughts aside and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go."


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **This show would be much sappier if I was in charge, so no, it isn't mine.

**A/n: **Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I really hope this chapter lives up to expectations; please take a minute to let me know what you think. At the very least, it will bring a smile to my face.

-Ryeloza

**Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Chapter Four**

Twilight had fallen by the time Tom and Lynette arrived at their destination. It was a beautiful June night, warm and sweet with the scent of flowers. Outside the world was enveloped in a thick, rosy dusk in which the moon was already visible and the stars were just beginning to glimmer in the sky. The fates couldn't have conspired better to give them a more perfect evening, but as Tom parked the car, he realized quickly that Lynette's mind couldn't have been further from the idyllic world outside.

"Tom," she said, astonishment creeping into her voice, almost as though she couldn't believe her eyes. It was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. "What are we doing here?"

He flashed a grin in her direction, but didn't answer as he stepped out of the car. Waves of heat rose and died from the black tarred pavement beneath his feet as night slowly extinguished the hot summer day. In a way, he felt as though he'd stepped back in time eleven years; this place hadn't changed, or, if it had, his memory sifted the slight variations to fit what he remembered. He wondered if Lynette, so much less inclined to live a fantasy than he was, would react similarly. Opening her door, he took her hand and helped her out of the car, thrilled by the tremulous smile she bore. "Tom?" she prodded gently as he opened the trunk and pulled out the picnic dinner he'd packed. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. It's entirely possible that someone will have finally put a lock on the door to the roof and we'll be out of luck."

"I don't believe it."

Tom reached out for her hand again, not sure if she was referring to the likelihood of the door being locked or him bringing her here; it didn't particularly matter. "Come on," he said. "Let's trespass where we don't belong."

"I don't know. I think that some part of us never really left."

He glanced at her, surprised. Usually she wasn't one to be nostalgic or romantic in that way, but he had to agree with the thought. They'd started their life together here—the first place they'd called home as a couple; the place where they'd first crossed the threshold as man and wife; the home where they'd started their family. Once, long ago, this dingy little building had been everything to them, and Lynette was right: some part of them would always belong here.

Quietly, they entered the side door of the building, Tom, for once, thanking the lackadaisical security. It was only three flights of stairs to the top floor, and to his delight, the door to the rooftop was unbarred. With a shared, wicked grin, they ascended the final staircase and emerged on the roof of the apartment building. "Jeez," breathed Tom, shaking his head, "this place really hasn't changed."

To an average person, this could quite possibly be the least romantic place on earth. The roof was nothing but a long slab of concrete surrounded by a four foot cement wall onto which people had scribbled an immense amount of graffiti over the years. Even the view wasn't anything special, overlooking the parking lot and surrounding streets; a boring, unnatural landscape heightened by the sound of traffic. Still, he and Lynette had spent more nights up here than he could count, lying out under the stars and daydreaming about a day when they'd have more.

Tom set down the picnic basket, slowly tracking Lynette's movements as she crossed the roof to look down at the street below. The fear he'd felt earlier had faded to a subtle pinch in the back of his mind; omnipresent but ignorable when faced with such a distraction. He knew now why this date had been so important to Lynette. It was an escape, a chance to recapture something that had been lost at some point—their ability to simply be two people in love. Not a married couple, not parents, not business partners, but lovers only. He couldn't remember the last time that that connection had been the most significant one between them; perhaps that was part of the problem.

Lynette turned to face him, leaning back against the wall and smiling shyly. She looked ghostly in the moonlight, pale skin and shimmering hair, almost effervescent in that watery dress. "Don't get lost in the past," she said quietly.

"I'm not. I was just thinking about how beautiful you look."

"Hmm," she said with a hint of self-deprecating laughter in her voice. "Twelve years and four kids. You sure you're not remembering the past?"

"I don't know if you've ever looked more gorgeous than you do right now."

Lynette ducked her head for just a second, a delighted grin lighting up her face. "What made you think of coming here?"

"Missing you?" It wasn't really a question, but he punctuated it with a slight shrug. "Missing us."

"We've never stopped being us, you know."

"No. But we've changed."

"Isn't that life?"

Tom didn't answer her. It wasn't really necessary because they both already knew how true that statement was. Marriage was some constantly evolving entity, forced to adapt to the thousands of challenges life presented or else die. They could never really go back, but they could recapture the past. Lately, their history was all the escape he'd had. The present reality of what was facing them loomed large and dangerous, and the only way he'd been able to cope was by looking back. Reminiscence, he was beginning to realize, was just as important as the present or the future.

He stepped toward her, holding out a hand, and she came to join him halfway. Unhesitatingly, he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his right arm loosely around the small of her back. Her head rested against his shoulder, and slowly he began to lead her in a dance serenaded only by the distant sounds of the traffic below. Immediately, any tension left in his body fled. This, dancing with her, was something that had always felt natural. The feel of her body, gentle and feminine pressed against his, the smell of her perfume, the way she leaned into him, showing some rare, appreciated dependency—he always felt like she was completely his in these moments.

She hummed into his shoulder contentedly, briefly nuzzling him. "Did I ever tell you that I fell in love with you during a dance?"

"No." He frowned, oddly curious. "The first time you said you loved me was that weekend I took you out on my boat."

"I know. But I knew before then." She pulled back to look up at him. Her eyes had turned to a deep violet color in the fading light. He'd always been certain that he could lose himself in her eyes just by watching them shift to different, brilliant shades of blue. It was impossible to pick a favorite. Oblivious to his thoughts, she continued, "I was working late that one night and you came back to the office to bring me dinner."

"You are not about to tell me that coming up with the tango dancing fleas made you fall in love with me."

"Not exactly," she laughed. "You were worried that I was too stressed and you were trying to make me laugh."

"I love seeing you laugh."

"You've been telling me that from the moment we met."

Tom leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. "That's because it's true. You light up. It's incredible."

"Well…" She shook her head as though she didn't believe him, but her smile was bright enough to outshine the stars. "Anyway, you were kidding around, and then you pulled me up and made me tango with you right in my office. And I just remember thinking that no one ever cared about my happiness the way you did. That's when I realized I loved you."

"You never told me that."

Lynette shrugged. "We'd only been dating for a couple months."

"I'd already bought your ring."

Her eyes widened and she stopped swaying with him. "What?"

"A few days before that, I bought your engagement ring."

"You did not."

He nodded seriously. It was something he'd never told her before, a secret he nurtured inside of himself because it seemed too sweet to spoil with words. He had a feeling, though, that Lynette had felt the same way about the confession she'd just made. "Do you remember that night that you finally told me about your childhood?"

Her eyes dropped for the briefest moment, an acknowledgement without words.

"I knew then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Why?" The word spilled out of her, genuine disbelief, as though this was the last thing she ever expected. He wasn't surprised—she'd always seen weakness where he'd only seen strength.

"Because I'd never met anyone so brave. And I remember holding you while you cried, and I knew that I wanted to be that person for you for the rest of your life. The one that you could count on; the one that you could depend on to pick you up when you fell; the one who loved you no matter what. That's all I've ever wanted to be for you."

Lynette blinked, obviously trying to ward off tears, but they'd filled her eyes so completely that instead they spilled over and ran down her cheeks. He raised his hands, cupping her face and wiping the dainty curves of her cheekbones with his thumbs. "I can't believe that's when you knew," she said, her voice tight with emotion.

"You were the most incredible woman I'd ever met. Of course I knew."

She gave him a watery smile, pushing up on her toes for a second to kiss him, and then throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. His hands dropped to her lower back and he squeezed her gently to him. "You know you've always been the only person I've ever been able to depend on?"

"Have I?"

She nodded; he could feel her tears, hot and damp against his neck. "And I don't know if I've ever thanked you for it."

"You don't have to, Lynette." He had no words for the genuine need he felt to be that person for her, a duty borne of compulsion rather than obligation. He did it because he loved her—he existed because he loved her. "I love you."

She pulled back, kissing him again, smiling through her tears. "I love you too. More than anything."

That, really, was all he'd ever wanted from her.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **It is absolutely not mine.

**A/n: **I am so glad I've finally moved past my writer's block for this one. Hopefully there won't be such a long gap between updates now, because I've had a breakthrough about where this is going.

Thank you to everyone who is sticking with this story despite the length of time between updates. I hope you continue to enjoy it, and please know that I truly appreciate all the great feedback.

-Ryeloza

**Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Chapter Five**

When they drove home that night, it was like driving back to reality.

All night, Lynette had worn the softest smile. It was the type of smile that shone through her eyes as well, their midnight depths glittering with some unspoken contentment. The sight of that happiness in her was reassuring—hopeful—and that was what he tried to concentrate on. Not the fact that it was the first time in recent memory that he recalled seeing that easy pleasure in her; not the subtle reminder that it had been too long since he'd inspired that joy inside of her; not in the thought that he had almost lost the right to see her smile like that.

He tried to just be happy that she was happy. It really wasn't hard to do.

Now her eyes were closed, head tilted back against the seat, the very picture of someone in a restful slumber, but he had the eerie feeling that she was actually awake. It wasn't anything he could base in fact—he could only catch glimpses of her face in the occasional flash of headlights from oncoming traffic—but as sure as he was breathing, he'd swear up and down that she wasn't asleep.

"I want to make a plan," she'd told him as they sat and dined on their picnic dinner. For just second, his eyes narrowed nervously, that fear bubbling up that she was going to bring up a hundred thousand things he didn't want to hear. Maybe she had seen it, because there was a pause like she'd lost her thought before she said, "We should go on a trip."

Tom had looked at her in surprise. Their only plan for the summer had been to visit her sister for a long weekend, and that was before they'd found out she was sick. "Where?" he'd stuttered.

"I don't know. France, maybe."

"France? Lynette—"

"Not…now. I think maybe next summer."

In that moment, he'd smiled so broadly that his muscles hurt. Gently he'd taken her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips. "Yeah. I think that's a good idea."

And she had smiled.

She had given him everything he wanted tonight, and he was riding high on that fulfillment. But he knew, even before anything happened, that it was all going to come crashing down around him.

It was just a matter of when.

As he pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine, he turned to look at his wife, reaching out and running the tip of his finger lightly over her cheek. "Hey, beautiful," he said softly, both of them reveling in the ruse of waking her even though she wasn't sleeping. "We're home."

Lynette opened her eyes, and even in the dark he could see that that smile was gone and all that was left was the vacant listlessness that had been present for too long now. He repressed a sigh, but as he drew his hand away, she caught his wrist and kissed his palm. "Thank you," she murmured. "For tonight. It was…" She trailed off with a slight nod of her head; she didn't need to say the words. He already knew. What hurt was the underlying thought—that it was a last hurrah; it put a finality on the evening that he didn't want to consider.

Slowly, softly, she added, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he said, not saying the other part: that until recently, he didn't even know how much of her he was missing; that he hadn't realized he'd lost her until it was almost too late.

The words glided over her like water, almost as if she didn't hear him. "I've missed the way you used to look at me. All that love and passion and protectiveness. Tonight…It was almost like getting that back."

"Almost?"

"I can see the fear in your eyes, Tom."

Absurdly, he almost apologized, catching himself at the last second and reaching for her hand instead. He couldn't talk about his fear; he could barely acknowledge it in his mind; but he couldn't do anything about feeling it, and if that showed through…

He wasn't sure he could change that.

"I think that's what I'm going to hate the most," she sighed, turning her head to look up at the roof of the car. "Seeing that fear in people's eyes. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to stand it."

"You can't expect people not to worry about you."

"I know."

"It's not just fear. It's love too."

She nodded, glanced at him again. "I know. But Tom…I don't want to tell people. I can't tell people. Not…yet."

"Lynette…" He trailed off. What was he going to say? That she was crazy? That she was cutting off her support system at the knees? That she was wrong? If he took that away—if he deprived her of one of the only things left she could control in her life…

"Especially the kids," she said, not even allowing him the feeblest protest. "It's one of those things…It's one of those things that makes you grow up too fast. And I don't want to do that to them. I need time to figure it out."

"They're going to know something is going on."

"Tom." She said his name with just the slightest reproach, and he shut his eyes against it. "You can barely talk about it. And until you can—I can't do that alone. I can't handle that burden on my own. Can you understand that?"

His chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. It was too painful to know that he was denying her something she needed when he'd vowed to be everything for her in the coming months, but that guilt was overpowered by his anxiety and inability to contemplate this future. He'd never envisioned this; he'd never planned for this. And now that it was here, he was incapable of recognizing it for the harsh reality it was.

Somehow he had to pull himself together.

He just didn't know how.

"Okay," he agreed weakly, and her face cracked just a little under the burden of solitude he was placing on her. He wanted to cry. "We'll wait."

She squeezed his hand, the most acknowledgement she could manage (probably more than he deserved), and then got out of the car and headed for the house.

It was a long time before Tom could follow her inside.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine.

**A/n: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are truly wonderful!

**Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**Chapter Six**

It rained that morning.

Tom could hear the patter of water against the roof as he woke up, slowly opening his eyes to the dark gray light of the stormy dawn. He loved mornings like this. As rare as they were, each one felt like the perfect excuse to just be lazy, lounge in bed, and listen to the chaos of the world outside. Yawning, stretching, and shutting his eyes again, Tom rolled over like a slug and reached for his wife, determined to convince her that they could afford to sleep in—blatant lie though it might have been.

His arm skimmed a pillow, cool to the touch, and he reluctantly opened his eyes. Empty bed; empty room; it was only six o'clock, but she had clearly been up for awhile. As much as he wanted to curl up and fall back to sleep until she prodded him, he somehow found the willpower to climb out of bed and venture into the bathroom, barely registering surprise at the sight of his wife standing at the sink, staring at herself in the mirror.

"Hey," he yawned, coming up behind her. He patted her hips as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Come back to bed. We can be late just this once."

She stood quietly, unresponsive for a moment, not even sparing him a glance. Somehow, despite the fact that she was gazing at her own reflection, there was nothing vain about it. Whatever she saw, though, was a mystery to him, and it was too early for him to try to figure it out. Finally, just as he sank down on the toilet seat with a tired sigh, she spoke.

"Not today. My appointment is at eight, remember? We're barely going to have time to make sure my mom is up to get the kids off."

"Right." He shut his eyes and fought off a wave of nausea. Something—the rain, the bleak day, his exhaustion—had pushed his dread of this morning right out of his mind, and now it had returned tenfold. "Big fun," he joked lamely.

"Uh-huh."

Strangely disappointed that his quip hadn't evoked a response, he blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Well, as long as we're up, why don't I just go make sure your mom's up, and then you and I can sneak out to breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat. Doctor's orders."

"Tom…"

"Or I could make you oatmeal. It's a perfect day for oatmeal."

"Tom…"

"Cinnamon rolls? A bagel? English muffin?"

That, finally, drew her eyes away from the mirror. The tiniest spark of annoyance in her eyes made him smile. "Sweetie, I'm really not hungry."

Facing her exasperation with a frank, stern smile, he echoed her artificially saccharine tone: "Sweetie, I really don't care."

Her face registered the slightest surprise, but something in her eyes softened just a bit. "Fine," she said huffily. "But only toast."

"It's going to have jelly. And you're going to love it."

She smiled, bending and putting her hands on his cheeks, and gave him a gentle kiss.

* * *

_June 4, 2008_

_Dear Lynette,_

_Can you tell I'm only pretending to be brave?_

_Funny, it's a question I can only ask you here, in a place where you'll never see it. You'd probably consider that alone cowardice; me running from confrontation as usual. But I see it as a cautionary approach. If you can't tell, then I really don't want you to know that I'm scared. I guess it's a catch-22, though; if I don't ask I won't know._

_Maybe I don't want to know._

_Maybe I already do._

_The other night in the car, I could see the accusation in your eyes; the implication that I'm not being as strong as you need me to be right now. But admitting out loud that you could…_

_Even here, I can't write it. _

_Today, though, I tried so hard—harder than I've ever tried in my life to put on a brave face and pretend that everything is going to be okay. I smiled and held your hand and told stupid jokes and talked to your mother for over an hour just so you could have a break from her and helped the kids with their homework while you were napping. And I want to say that it was fine, that we're going to be able to get through this unscathed, but the truth is that I'm so exhausted tonight that I can't imagine doing this again two days from now. And again next week. And the week after that._

_It doesn't mean that I won't. It doesn't mean that I don't want to. Just…_

_Just that this is going to be so much harder than I thought. _

_That sounds ridiculous. I mean, I knew going in that it was going to be hard, but all I was thinking about was the emotional fatigue and the fear and anxiety. I didn't think about everything else. I didn't realize just how much the chemo would really wipe you out. I didn't consider all the hundreds of little things that I've become so used to doing with a partner. And today it all just hit me like a ton of bricks._

_How you're going to be tired all the time._

_How somehow the cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping and dry cleaning are all still going to have to get done._

_How the kids need their routine—need us one hundred percent, even if we don't feel like giving it._

_How I'm still going to have to work…_

_How do people do this? _

_How am I going to be able to do this?_

_How am I going to be able to do this without letting you see how tired and stressed and scared I am?_

_Do you know the worst part? I want to say all of this to you: my partner and best friend and lover. You've always been the person I can talk to about anything._

_But how can I complain when it's so much worse for you?_

_I miss you._

_Tom_


End file.
